Lock In
by cyrilandshirley
Summary: Brendan and Ste, after work.  A one-shot.


**Lock-in**

_Yeah, yeah … see ya …_

Brendan ushered the last of the drunken students out of the bar, closed the door on them, and shot the bolt with a satisfying clunk. His thumb lingered on the lock for a moment. Jesus. Students. They were annoying, but they drank plenty, and that was what mattered, he guessed. Strange how to him, they never seemed all that bright. If they had any brains, they'd be out in the world, like him, making money out of the mugs who always seemed to be eager to be parted with their cash. He felt relieved to be shot of them for another night, and turned to survey the bar. Ste was moving from table to table, stacking dirty glasses into a crate to take them to the dishwasher. Brendan cocked his head slightly on one side and watched him for a moment. The way that he leant over the tables, giving them a wipe-down. Picked up the crate and moved to the next table. Put it down. Bent over. Did it again. The arch of his back. The curve of his small arse. Brendan felt a twitch. The glasses in the crate clinked. Ste seemed oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. Or maybe he was just pretending to be oblivious.

There was only him and Ste left there. That's the way he liked it. That's the way he'd planned it, if he was honest. He'd been thinking about it all night, every time Ste brushed past him at the bar, or reached past him to get a glass, and their eyes would meet for a second, and Brendan would either pretend it hadn't happened, or stare him down until he looked away. That was a fun game. He almost always won that one. He'd raise his eyebrows, and Ste would blush, and look awkward, and sort of flounce away, sulky. He had a very sulky mouth on him, did Ste, sometimes. It did things to Brendan, thinking about that mouth. The taste of it. What it could do to him.

Towards the end of the night, Brendan had sent Cheryl home early, told her she needed her beauty sleep, he'd close up. Him and Stephen. And now, here they were. Game on.

He wandered over to the bar, put out two clean glasses, and poured two large shots of whisky from the bottle of Jamesons.

"Leave that until morning," Brendan said, focussing on pouring the shots, not looking at Ste.

Ste straightened up. Looked puzzled. "Why? Don't you want me to finish up before I go?"

Brendan contemplated him for a second, feeling that familiar very slight irritation at the way Ste always seemed to be half a step behind him. Patience was needed, with Ste. Luckily, he was a very patient person. In the right cause.

He picked up one of the whisky glasses and held it out to Ste. Looked at him direct.

"Thought we might have our own party, right here," he said.

Ste looked slightly uncertain, as if he was trying to read him. But came over anyway.

"Right. OK," he said, taking the glass. Then looked a bit more confident. He raised his eyes to Brendan's. "We're having a lock-in, are we?"

"Something like that," Brendan said, watching him.

Ste lifted the glass to his lips, but at the last moment, hesitated.

"You're not taking this out of my wages, are you?" He looked up at Brendan, wary.

Brendan's mouth curled into an amused smile.

"Call it a pre-Christmas bonus," he said, and took a swig from his glass, savouring it. You couldn't beat a Jameson's at the end of a long night. Well, you could. There were other compensations. But he meant to have those too.

Ste nodded, pacified, and they stood and drank for a minute. While they sipped the whisky, Brendan wandered over to the lights, and flicked most of them off, leaving just the spotlights behind the bar. They were enveloped in a dim half-darkness. Then he walked over to the juke box. Took a set of keys out of his pocket, jingled them, stuck them into the override slot, and bashed a few options in, apparently casually.

Music started to fill the bar, a skipping bass rhythm, with a quiet melody above it.

_When you were here before,  
Couldn't look you in the eye  
You're just like an angel,  
Your skin makes me cry …_

Brendan turned around to Ste.

"You like these guys, yeah?" He raised his eyebrows.

Ste was surprised. He nodded. "How did you know?"

"I think it could be … the posters. Y'know, on the wall of your lovely home."

Ste knew he was having the piss taken out of him. "Didn't think you'd notice something like that."

Brendan fixed him with a gaze. "I notice everything. I thought you knew that."

Ste felt the familiar sensation of being disconcerted. This is what Brendan always did to him. He never really understood what was in Brendan's head. He never knew if Brendan was serious, or joking. He made him unsure about things. Black could be fucking white, sometimes, when he was with Brendan. His hand on the glass started to feel slightly sweaty. He took another mouthful, to steady his nerves. He shouldn't be nervous around Brendan by now, he knew. But he was, sometimes.

Brendan walked slowly but deliberately over to Ste. Took his glass out of his hand, and put both down on the bar. Ste waited to see what would happen. He knew it was usually best to wait, to take direction. He hoped he might get a kiss. Brendan seemed very close. He wasn't that much taller than him, but he seemed to tower over him sometimes. But to his surprise, Brendan walked away a few paces, into the centre of the floor, where it was darker. Turned around. Fixed him with a look that made him almost shake with a mixture of anticipation, and confusion.

"Come here," Brendan said. It wasn't a request.

Ste still felt and looked uncertain.

Brendan almost rolled his eyes. "Come here," he said again. This time Ste came closer, his feet dragging a little on the scuffed floor of the Union. What was this all about? He stopped, in front of Brendan. Rubbed one bare arm, in the polo shirt, with the other hand. He felt nervous, under Brendan's unwavering gaze. He always wondered if he was really good enough for this. If Brendan really wanted him. God knows he'd been binned off enough times. And worse. But he got his answer, right then.

Brendan reached out and put his hands on Ste's narrow hips, and pulled him the last few inches towards him. Their bodies made contact. Brendan looked down into his face. Smiled, his mouth twitching up at the corners. Ste took in a breath, and half smiled back, almost instinctively. He thought he knew where this was going, now, but you could never be too sure with Brendan. And it paid to be sure, he'd found that out.

Brendan bent his head and seemed to be almost sniffing Ste's neck, inhaling the smell of sweat and the warmth of his skin. Ste felt a thrill go down his spine. It ended up somewhere round behind his balls. And then something unexpected happened. Brendan started to move his body, shifting his weight slowly from foot to foot, taking Ste with him, hip-to-hip. The movement followed the rhythm of the music coming from the jukebox.

_I don't care if it hurts,  
I wanna have control  
I want a perfect body  
I want a perfect soul …_

Blimey. Was … was Brendan dancing with him?

"What are you doing?" Ste asked him, looking up into his face, thinking he might be going a bit mad. They'd done a lot of things together, him and Brendan, but they'd never done this before. His hands rested on Brendan's lapels, felt the fabric of the dark grey jacket under his fingers.

"Just do what I tell you," Brendan said, keeping eye contact for a moment, his eyes hooded.

"But …"

Brendan seemed to lose patience for a moment, and stopped moving them across the floor, but didn't let go.

"Stephen, how many times? You do what I tell you, and everything'll be fine."

Ste decided to go with it. As he had frequently before now. "What do I have to do?" he asked, wrinkling his nose a bit.

"You have to follow me," Brendan said, low, dark.

"Follow you. Right," Ste said. And let Brendan start the movement again. He felt his own hips, following it, as they moved slowly, rhythmically. It was … hypnotic. His hands moved almost of their own accord from Brendan's lapels to rest on his upper arms. They swayed together, thighs brushing against each other. He looked up into his face, half in shadow. This was … unexpected. But it was great. This was actually great. Brendan was dancing him slowly around part of the floor, turning, his body, strong, powerful, pressed lightly against Ste's. And it made him feel like a million dollars. It was a massive turn on. Ste knew there was now a smile on his own face, as he looked up at Brendan, and knew what it was building towards.

Brendan bent his head again, towards Ste's neck, leaning in to him. He felt Brendan's breath, hot, on his skin, raising the hairs. And he did something he'd hardly dared to do before, though he'd wanted to. Had done, a few times, in the hospital, when he'd needed comforting. He bent his head forward and rested it on Brendan's shoulder. Inhaled the smell of his body, his cologne, completely masculine. Gave in to it. What was weird, about this? Two blokes, dancing? It was fucking amazing. As long as it was with Brendan, pretty much everything was fucking amazing.

They moved around the room, slowly, hips not breaking contact, with only the music as a soundtrack. They said nothing. It was like being under a spell. Ste felt that if he said something, he would break it. The magic, whatever was keeping them there, dancing together, with the world locked outside. And he might never get the chance again, to move like this with Brendan. But he didn't know what it was about him, he always seemed to have this impulse to talk. To ask questions. He felt like there was so much about Brendan that he had no clue about. They had talked, shared bits of their lives, kissed and fucked. But the man was a mystery. Most of all, tonight. He could hear Brendan chewing the habitual gum, turning it over with his tongue. One of his habits. One of the things that meant he never seemed to be completely at rest. There was almost always one part of him, moving. A finger. An eyebrow. Ste felt filled by a dangerous impulse to wind him up. He knew he shouldn't. But he couldn't stop himself.

"Brendan?" he heard his own voice, his chin resting against Brendan's jacket.

"Mmm?" Brendan responded, very low in his throat, as if he could hardly be bothered to start talking.

"Can I ask you something?"

Ste immediately felt Brendan's body stiffen slightly. He pulled back a little, looked down into Ste's face.

"What've I told you about talking too much?" he said, low, a warning, keeping up the movement.

"No … but I never get a chance to say anything," Ste protested. Fucking hell, he had no idea why he did this, why he was always trying to get underneath Brendan's skin, as if he was driven to it by some crazy genetic self-destruct instinct. Some determination to get himself hurt.

Brendan seemed to consider it for a moment.

"Well … if there's anything you don't like about this, there's one thing you can always say," he said.

"What?" Ste felt like Brendan was wrong-footing him again.

Brendan looked at him, almost affectionately. But his eyes were dangerous.

"You can always say no, Stephen." He reached a hand up to Ste's face, brushed some hair back behind his ear. "Are you saying no?" His eyebrows were raised again, a challenge.

There was a slight pause.

"No," Ste said, biting his bottom lip.

Brendan's hand returned to his hip, and squeezed, almost pinching, and they started moving again.

"Is that no, no?" Brendan said, into his face. "Or no, you're not saying no?"

He seemed to be playing with him again. There was a mocking tone in his voice. Ste furrowed his brow.

"It's … no … I don't know, now." Jesus, he sounded stupid sometimes. He wasn't stupid, he was sure he wasn't. But sometimes, Brendan made him feel that way. Luckily, Brendan also made him feel a whole other number of ways which were a lot more gratifying.

"Have I confused you?" Brendan asked him. He looked amused, now.

"No … it's just …" Ste decided, out of sheer perversity and a kind of annoyance, to carry on. "Can I ask this one thing?"

Brendan stopped moving again and just looked at him.

"Jesus, Stephen," he said, "just spit it out then, and shut up. Cos you're seriously spoiling the mood here."

"Ok…" Ste said, and decided to take his life in his hands. He took a deep breath. "Why do you always chew gum?"

Brendan looked, for a moment, surprised. Then grinned, wolfish. Chewed, if anything more openly than before. He had big white teeth.

"It keeps me out of trouble," he said, his eyebrows flickering upwards, almost winking at him.

"No …" Ste carried on, made brave by the fact that Brendan was taking it as a joke, "it's just … you never take it out. Not even … y'know …" He ground to a halt.

They had stopped beside one of the pillars of the Student Union. Ste found himself backed against it. Brendan was very close now, their bodies almost touching.

"Would you rather I got into trouble?" Brendan asked him, his mouth coming close to Ste's.

"What kind of trouble?" Ste asked, his heart starting to race, knowing full well exactly what kind of game they were playing here.

"Tell you what?" Brendan said, very low, "Let's find out, shall we?"

He took out the gum and reached behind Ste's head. He stuck it deliberately to the pillar, pressing it down with his thumb. Leant his hand against the support. Put the other on Ste's face, turned it towards him. And then he kissed him.

It was an unbelievable experience, being kissed by Brendan. It was fierce, almost hungry, as if he needed to eat him. But it was also kind of soft. And the moustache, that crazy facial hair, prickled against the skin of Ste's face. Before he knew it, Brendan's hands were on his hips again, pulling him against his body. It was clear to both that they were well on the way to arousal.

The track of music had changed, but it still filled the room.

_I find insight, fundamental movement, uh  
So when it's black this insomniac take an original tack  
Keep the beast in my nature under ceaseless attack  
I gets no sleep_

Ste realised that their bodies were moving again, together, to the dark rhythm, and that Brendan was walking him backwards somewhere, while his tongue explored Ste's mouth, his hands in Ste's hair now.

"Where are we going?" Ste asked him, between kisses.

"Stock room," Brendan murmured.

Eventually Ste felt his back hit the door, and Brendan's hand behind his head push it open, roughly.

Ste broke away, for a second. He just needed to be completely sure.

"And … what are we doing?" he asked Brendan, completely unnecessarily.

Brendan smiled for a moment.

"Getting into trouble, by the looks of it," he said, and pushed Ste backwards into the small room, where his back hit the wall, and Brendan's mouth hit his, again, and Ste felt himself give in to it.

Brendan really wasn't the kind to hang about, once he'd made up his mind, and it was only a few seconds before they were fumbling with each other's belts, unzipping. Ste shivered at the feeling of Brendan's fingers under the hem of the polo shirt he had to wear at work. On his skin. And then gasped at the feeling of Brendan's hand finding its way into his boxers and gripping his dick. He moaned.

_Uunnngggggghhh_

And then Brendan was kissing him again, pushing his boxers and trousers roughly down over his backside. Ste pushed them down further and somehow managed to toe himself out of his trainers and step out of his clothes so he was left standing in just the polo shirt, with a very obvious erection. He should have felt ridiculous, he knew, with Brendan standing there still almost fully dressed, but he just felt unbelievably horny. He decided to be brave and while Brendan was kissing him again, sucking on his bottom lip, he put his own hands down the back of Brendan's trousers and grabbed at his arse, pushed his clothes down a little over his hips, and felt his cock spring free. He heard a kind of laugh come from the back of Brendan's throat as their cocks rubbed against each other, their tongues. It was a kind of controlled frenzy. Brendan broke away for a second to suck on one of his own long fingers and then went back to kissing Ste until he felt as if most of the air was being removed from his lungs. It was only then that Ste realised Brendan's wet finger was straying between his arse cheeks, looking for something. Looking for a way in. He groaned into Brendan's mouth as he found what he was looking for. Ste's mouth broke away, and he bit his lip. Brendan's mouth was very close, as he watched the reactions on Ste's face as he pushed in. And then withdrew. And then pushed in again. And then Brendan was kissing him again. There was seriously no escape from the assault on every part of him, his mouth, his cock, his arse. It demanded a kind of total surrender.

Suddenly, just as he was starting to melt with urgency, Brendan removed his finger, and stepped back a little, looking at him with expectation.

He held out his hands. "Come on then."

Ste looked at him, panting, breathless. But confused again. "What?"

Brendan flexed and wiggled his fingers. Raised his eyebrows.

"Jump."

"Jump?" What the fuck? He'd been kind of expecting Brendan to bend him over the freezer and take him from behind. God knows, he knew he enjoyed it that way.

Brendan looked at him, amused, but determined.

"Yeah, jump. It's not like you weigh anything, is it, flyweight?"

Ste looked at him, still unsure. So, what, he was expected to jump into Brendan's arms?

Brendan lost patience.

"Oh, for fuck's sake Stephen …" he said, and bent down, picked him up around the thighs, and slammed his back against the wall.

Fuck. Ste realised which way this was going, now. Almost instinctively, he wrapped his legs around Brendan's waist, and clung on around his neck. He could feel Brendan's stiff cock somewhere behind his balls, rubbing, and he started to practically shake. This … this couldn't work, could it? There was some fumbling. The application of some spit from Brendan's palm, and then Ste started to feel him. Brendan's body pressed hard against his, Ste's back flat against the wall now. And then he felt it for sure. Brendan was coming in.

He almost held his breath. Bit hard down on his lip. He heard strange, incoherent noises coming out of his own mouth. Strangled cries.

"Relax …" Brendan said, as he pushed in further, and went back to kissing him, more gently this time. Somehow, that helped. It helped to have Brendan's mouth on his as he felt his cock burying itself in him. And then, finally, Brendan was as deep as he could go. He removed his mouth from Ste's and seemed to be just scanning his face. Ste knew his own lips were open, his breath coming and going, fast, his heart pounding. His body starting to adjust. It was like being impaled. But in a good way. He felt filled beyond full. He felt like his pupils must be dilated, his eyes wide.

"There ya go …" Brendan said, ominously soft.

And then he adjusted his grip on Ste's thighs, pulled out a little. And pushed back in, hard.

Oh sweet Jesus Christ. It didn't seem like this was physically possible. But then, Brendan had taught him quite a few things recently that he'd previously thought must have been against the laws of physics. This one seemed to completely defy the laws of gravity, and geometry. But it was fucking amazing.

Brendan was gripping his thighs with an unbelievable intensity. Fucking hell, he was gonna have bruises there tomorrow. He was really going to have to ask Brendan to be more careful. There were only so many times he could get away with telling Rae that he'd bumped into the corner of a table. Again. But somehow, he didn't really think the word careful was in Brendan's vocabulary. Especially when he wanted something badly. As he did, right now. There was something of the werewolf about Brendan, Ste felt, as he felt the power of him, his dark hair against the side of Ste's face, the particular smell of the hair wax he used. Except you didn't have to scratch very far beneath the surface to reveal it. And you didn't have to wait for the full moon.

Brendan continued to fuck him vigorously against the wall, until it felt like all of Ste's senses were dissolving. He felt like he was being dismantled. He removed one hand from Brendan's neck and reached out shakily for a shelf that was next to his head, to steady him. It was loaded with spare glasses and he was vaguely aware that it shook and rattled in time to their thrusts.

The door to the bar was still ajar, and the thumping of the music seemed to invade his consciousness, as Brendan was invading his body.

_I made mistakes back then, I'll never do it again  
Oh my next girl  
she'll be nothing like my ex girl  
__It was a painful dance, nah  
I got a second chance_

_Oh her beautiful face and her wicked ways  
And I'm praying for her beautiful face everyday  
All that work, over, over so much time  
if I think too hard, I might lose my mind_

Eventually, when he felt like he was starting to disintegrate, when he couldn't tell what was the beat of the music and what was the beat of his hammering pulse, when the heat between them felt like it was melting his entire body, and he couldn't hang on any longer, Brendan picked up the pace, bringing himself to a climax, and all Ste could do was cling on and bury his mouth in the shoulder of Brendan's jacket. There was just something strangely dirty about being fucked by someone who was almost completely suited, though Ste had scrabbled at his shirt buttons to reveal the hair on Brendan's chest, had put his palm against the cross that hung over his heart. And then, there he was. Brendan gave four or five, last, long, dragging thrusts, and Ste heard him give a kind of growl, and release, inside him. They stayed where they were, breathing hard, for a moment. And then Brendan released his grip, pulled back his hips, withdrawing, Ste unwrapped his legs, and slid down the wall until he was standing. For a second, Brendan looked him in the eye, and a hand went almost unconsciously to his face. And then he got down on his knees, pushed up Ste's polo shirt, and put his mouth around Ste's cock.

_Oh fuck …_

Ste felt his head lean back against the wall. His hand went to Brendan's head as he sucked him off. There was. Nothing. Like this. It was like a reward for being good. I'll fuck you, then I'll suck you. It was intense. His legs shook, feeling the suction from Brendan's mouth up and down the shaft, his tongue playing around the head. It took precisely two minutes before he came, one hand gripping Brendan's hair, a cry of satisfaction leaving his mouth.

Brendan sat back and looked up at him. Wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Then stood up and landed an open kiss on his mouth. It should have been disgusting, Ste thought. But it wasn't. It just was what it was. Like everything between them.

Brendan looked at him. "OK?" His voice was soft. He seemed almost genuinely concerned.

Ste just nodded his head, incapable of anything more incoherent. "Uhuh."

Brendan ran a hand through his hair. "Watch the hair, next time," he said, planting a last kiss, soft, almost playful, on Ste's mouth. It was hard to tell, as always, if he was joking or not. And he started to straighten and fasten his clothes, walking back out into the bar, and leaving Ste standing there, naked from the waist down.

Ste dressed himself as best he could in his ravished state. Being with Brendan always left his body like this. Humming. Buzzing. Sore, in some ways. He wanted to move slowly. If he was honest, he wanted to lie beside him, as they had that one time, and in the hotel, and hold each other. But he was realising those chances didn't come along very often.

He was aware of Brendan moving around in the bar outside.

Brendan was refastening the last of his shirt buttons. He reached for his whisky and took another swig. He had the slightly strange taste in his mouth of Ste, combined with Jameson's. It wasn't bad, actually. He could seriously get used to it.

Then he went over to pick up the abandoned crate from one of the tables. Dumped it behind the bar.

The music had finished playing. Ste emerged from the stock room, tentatively.

"What are you doing?" he asked Brendan, straightening his own hair, rubbing his neck with one hand.

"Party's over for tonight," Brendan said. There wasn't any room for discussion.

Ste's heart sank. When Brendan closed down on him like this, he always meant it. He'd thought that maybe they could sit for longer. Drink whisky. Talk. Jesus, just chase each other round the bar, chuck things, have a laugh. God knows, it was all pretty intense. And Brendan wasn't that old. Ste knew there was someone in there who might break out, if he was allowed to. But not tonight, he guessed.

"I'll go then, shall I?" he asked. He knew he sounded aggrieved.

"Sure," Brendan said, barely looking at him, suddenly very busy taking the keys out of the jukebox. Powering it down for the night.

Ste picked up his jacket from behind the bar, shrugged it on, and wandered off towards the door. He reached up and flicked up the bolt, freeing himself. But before leaving, he stopped. Turned around.

"I won't tell anyone, you know."

Brendan looked up at him, across the bar. He noticed, yet again, what an unusual face Ste had. High cheekbones. Eyes that were grey-green-blue, and arched eyebrows, like a Siamese cat. There was always something of a challenge in it, that face.

"What won't you tell anyone, Stephen?"

"I won't tell anyone your secret."

"Oh yeah?" Brendan felt a nervous tension, like a taut wire, between his shoulder blades. He willed Ste to stop. He didn't want to be forced to do anything bad tonight. Not tonight. "And what is my secret?"

Ste looked at him. His face cracked into a smile. Brendan could see his teeth. The challenge in his eyes. The defiant tilt of his chin.

"You've got great dance moves," Ste said. And with a last look, and something like a pout, he pulled open the door, and disappeared into the night.

The door banged shut. God damn him, Brendan thought, letting out a breath. Why was it, no matter how much he tried to show him who was boss, the little bastard was always so cocky?

He listened to the silence, echoing around the bar.

He was left alone with the two half-empty whisky glasses. He looked down at them and ran a finger around the edge of Ste's abandoned glass. He frowned. He was used to this. It was how it always had to end. It was for the best. He took from people what he could get, and went back to his life. But even though he would die rather than admit it, he was starting to realise, recently, that there were some things which he couldn't do alone. And maybe Ste knew that. Maybe that was why, no matter how hard Brendan tried to control him, there was always a part of Ste that stayed frustratingly just out of his grasp. Brendan didn't need anyone. Never had, never would. But sometimes, when he had sent Ste away again, the way he always did, and felt something inside himself resisting, something which wanted to keep him there, he was starting to understand there might be a truth that he needed to look in the face.

He drained what Ste had left of his whisky, remembering his face, upturned, and the look in his eyes, when he looked at Brendan, rapt, and his smile, and his body, swaying close against his own. His head, resting on Brendan's shoulder. He put the glass down.

Yeah. No matter how much he wanted to avoid it … there was one thing he couldn't get away from.

It was hard to dance on your own.


End file.
